


Crick

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Vignette, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 11:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21427192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Marcy puts David together again.
Relationships: David Mailer/Marcy Warton | Traveler 3569
Kudos: 9





	Crick

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Marcy’s in the kitchen, right in the middle of pouring hot water into her cup, when she hears David come in. She calls over the rim of her tea, “Welcome home.”

“Thanks,” David answers, only to cut off with a loud thunking noise that makes Marcy’s head shoot up. She watches David stumble back and try to enter the door a second time, this time having to do so sideways, because one of his big, brown wings won’t tuck in like it should. It’s bent at the base, drooping down, obviously injured. Marcy instantly puts her cup down. 

She comes around to help him to the couch, even though he mutters, “It’s fine, I’m fine—it’s not as bad as it looks—”

“David,” Marcy half-sighs, half-snaps, because he’s most certainly _not_ fine. She knows a bent wing when she sees one. She practically shoves him down onto the cushions, then makes him turn so she can climb in behind him. He tucks the one wing that still works in so it won’t get in her way, but the second one slides across their coffee table, knocking off the novel he’s been reading. She tells him, “You have to be more careful.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” David counters. She’s willing to bet the accident was still avoidable. Knowing David, he hurt himself trying to save someone else. He truly is an angel. But he suffers for it, and he cries out when she press in against the joint. He practically doubles over, swearing under his breath, but Marcy keeps going. She knows exactly what to do—it’s simple chiropractic work, not requiring any advanced technology. She resets his wing properly, then rolls her palm lightly over the inflamed area, assessing and soothing the damage left. 

When she finally deems it good enough, she withdraws her hands and says, “It’ll heal on its own within a few days, but no flying for forty-eight hours.”

He glances back at her, brow furrowing. “Then how am I supposed to get to work?”

Marcy shrugs. “I’ll carry you.”

“_You?_” His eyes go wide, and when she lifts a brow, he splutters, “Marcy... your wings are _tiny_. You couldn’t possibly support my weight—”

“I’m trained, David. I promise I _can_.”

He doesn’t look convinced. But she’s used to that doubt. She knows she landed in a delicate body, with miniscule white wings that took several months to strengthen. But she has strengthened them considerably. She once carried Trevor _and_ Carly out of bomb zone, and Trevor’s young body weighs about as much as a school bus. She can definitely handle David alone. 

He must trust her, because he begrudgingly says, “Okay.”

She kisses his cheek and adds, “And stay out of the kitchen so you don’t knock anything over. I’ll bring tea.”

“Marcy—”

She stops in the middle of climbing off the couch. He tells her, “I love you.”

Marcy snorts but promises, “I love you too.”


End file.
